Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“ D o you generally order your employees’ food for them?”
Oleg sipped the glass of red wine the sommelier had just poured for them. “I know what’s good at this restaurant. You don’t.”
“That didn’t answer my question.” She was sitting across from him, her hair a little bit loose around her face, in the steakhouse around the corner from her hotel.
The host had seated them in a velvet booth in a corner of the restaurant after he recognized Oleg, assuring him that they would have the most private corner of the restaurant.
Tatyana looked at the full tables on the far side of the room. “Are the tables near ours off-limits?”
“I prefer privacy when I’m eating.” He’d ordered both of them steaks and told the waiter to bring a variety of side dishes for the table.
“Do you always order for your employees?” She wasn’t giving up.
“I don’t. I do order for women though.”
She leaned back and lifted her chin. “I am not your woman.”
He felt that annoying twitch under his eye again. “It’s a courtesy. As I said, I know this restaurant; you do not.”
“What if I’m a vegetarian?”
Your blood doesn’t smell like a vegetarian, but you are iron deficient.
Probably best not to answer her that way. “You don’t eat meat? Is that why you’re so pale? You ordered a full breakfast at the hotel this morning.”
Her eyes went wide. “They told you what I ordered?”
Oleg picked up his wine again. “I didn’t ask. It was a guess, but I was right, wasn’t I?”
That brought some color to her cheeks. “I would prefer to pay for my own lodging and meals while I’m here.”
He swirled the bright red wine in his glass. “It’s part of your employment since you’re required to be in Odesa while you work. The advance is for…” He waved a hand. What did humans have to pay for? Rent. Car things. She wasn’t spending her money on red meat, that was for sure. “…your personal expenses. No need to lose your residence in Sevastopol because you’re working here.”
“That clause wasn’t specifically in my contract, and I checked,” she said. “Staying in Odesa the entire contract time isn’t going to be possible. I will have to go back.”
He took a gulp of wine and poured more into his own glass and then into hers even though she’d barely touched it. “Why?”
“Because I have family obligations.”
“Your mother is an adult, and you don’t have children.”
She sat back again. More color on her cheeks. “You don’t know everything about me.”
“You’ve searched my name, haven’t you?” He nodded at her computer bag. “On your computer.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes. I had to search for you when I was trying to get paid.”
“And yet you still have questions about me.” Oleg relaxed into the lush velvet of the booth. “So ask them.”
“Are you Zara’s father?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Did she call me her father?”
“Occasionally. More often, she called you ‘fucking Oleg’ or ‘that criminal bastard.’” Tatyana sipped her wine. “ If you are the Oleg she was referring to.”
He felt a laugh rumbling up from his chest and was surprised when it escaped.
Tatyana blinked, and her cheeks flushed again.
Oleg asked, “Did you think I was incapable of laughing when I hear something funny?”
“I don’t think I’ve even seen you smile.”
If I smile, you’ll likely see my fangs. He bared his teeth, fangs firmly retracted. “I can smile when I want to.”
“No.” She frowned at him. “No, it doesn’t suit you. Scowl again please.”
The playful part of his little wolf was coming out, and he had to fight the urge to smile again. “When you say things like that, I cannot help my laughter.” He swirled his wine, enjoying the deep purple-red color in the candlelight. “I am not Zara’s biological father.”
She exhaled. “I didn’t think you were, because you can’t be more than…”
“Continue.” He was curious. “How old do you think I am?”
“I am very bad at guessing ages.” She shook her head. “But not old enough to be her father.”
“No? I’m eleven hundred and thirty-seven. I think that’s old enough.”
It was her turn to smile, and the expression softened the curve of her stern mouth. “So you’re thirty-seven. And Zara was my age. So unless you were a very, very precocious ten-year-old, you’re not her father.” She narrowed her eyes. “But she did call you that.”
“Hmm.” How to answer the woman? She’d brushed off the reveal of his true age as if it were a joke. Which was what most humans would assume.
He was surprised he’d told her the truth. Not even Mika knew how old he really was.
“You could call me her guardian. Of a sort. I am older than you think, but as I said, I am not her biological father. I was close with him though.” I killed him. “And after he died, I committed to helping raise Zara. I helped her establish herself. That’s why she calls me her father. I am intrigued by the ‘criminal bastard’ label though.” He paused to sip his wine. “I’ve done some criminal things in the past, but my parents were married.”
Tatyana’s mouth was gaping. “You’re a criminal?”
“Not in the way you might think.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “And definitely not in this country.”
She looked around the restaurant. “I… This was a mistake. I should have gone to the authorities when I realized?—”
“Which authorities?” Oleg kept his voice low and leaned across the table. “The… Russian ones? Ukrainian? Things are complicated now, and they would be far more likely to arrest you than Zara. After all, you compiled a fraudulent set of corporate accounts.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Zara told me I was keeping the correct accounts. That you were the one telling the others at the company to manipulate the real numbers to avoid taxes, and she could only confirm her suspicions if she had an accurate set of books to take to the authorities when she reported you.”
So that was how Zara had lured the little rule-follower into her employ. Clever girl. Then again, Oleg had never thought his youngest child was anything but brilliant.
“Relax, volchitsa.” The woman looked like she was about to bolt from the room. Oleg reached over and poured more wine. “You don’t need to bare your teeth at me. I’m here to help you.” And myself. “If we follow Elene’s lead, there is no reason that you should face any legal consequences. This will all be sorted. Nothing you’re doing is illegal.”
She seemed to relax a little bit, but the color that his teasing words had brought to her cheeks had fled again.
Oleg used his most soothing voice. “You’re doing the right thing, Tatyana. The good thing.”
She nodded, but he could see that her previous playfulness had vanished, and he wanted it back. Her hands were twisted in her lap, and she was looking at the other diners on the other side of the restaurant again. Glancing at the door. Then at the floor.
Oleg said, “So the next time we go to dinner, what restaurant do you want to try?”
The corner of her mouth twitched up. “I’m not going to dinner with you again. It’s not appropriate.”
“Neither is a twenty-seven-year-old pursuing an eleven-hundred-and thirty-seven-year-old, but you don’t see me running from the room. I can’t help it. You’re an intriguing woman.”
She shook her head, and her lips curved into a full smile. “Sorry, Mr. Sokolov. I need a job more than I need a man.”
I’m not a man.
“Call me Oleg. Mr. Sokolov is very impersonal. And what you need is food.” He could smell the perfectly grilled steaks in the kitchen. “Which they will be serving shortly.”
“I don’t eat red meat much, but thank you.”
He lifted his glass. “Welcome to the company.”
“What do you do for fun in Sevastopol?” He was keeping his distance, but after a hearty Western-style steak with roasted potatoes, braised carrots, and other side dishes that had Tatyana’s eyes going wide, he told her he’d walk her back to the hotel.
Tatyana kept glancing over her shoulder as his driver followed them at a distance. “This is ridiculous. You don’t have to walk me back to the hotel. We’re in a safe part of the city, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but I enjoy a good walk when the air is fresh.” The night air was cool, and he could smell the sea. “What do you do for fun?”
“I…” She seemed to be at a loss. “I work.”
“That is not an answer. You can’t work all the time.”
“I take care of my mother. She has a cat. And she keeps pigeons on the roof. It annoys our neighbors, but I think they remind her of the country.”
“She grew up in the country?”
“Yes. She moved to the city to work. Like me. I grew up in Sevastopol.”
“But you went to university in Kyiv.”
A smile touched her lips. “I liked Kyiv.”
“Then why move back?”
“My mother can’t be alone for long.” Her eyes took on a distant, internal look. “I don’t really do much for fun. I’m quite boring.”
“I doubt that.” He remembered that she had been a dancer when she was a child. “There are clubs in Sevastopol. Dance clubs. Discos?”
She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Uh, yes. Discos.” She smirked. “Yes, there are clubs, but mostly they’re for tourists. I met Zara in a club.”
“Was she dancing?” He hadn’t known his daughter enjoyed dancing unless it was over the graves of her enemies.
“No, it was a karaoke club.”
He stopped in his tracks. “No.”
Tatyana laughed. “Yes. A karaoke club. She was there with a number of employees from ZOL, but I didn’t know it at the time. She was just friendly, and I was alone.”
“Why were you alone?”
“I don’t…” She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head when she looked at him. “Do you ask all your employees such personal questions?”
“You asked me personal questions.”
She sighed. “Most of my friends were from university. I don’t know many people in Sevastopol anymore. My old school friends mostly moved away.”
“The current political situation?”
“And work.” She shrugged. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not my favorite place.”
“What is your favorite place?” He didn’t know why he wanted to know, but he did.
“No, it’s my turn. What do you do for fun?”
Oleg blinked. “I don’t think anyone has asked me that in a decade.”
“Seriously?”
“I work.”
She smiled and shook her finger at him. “No, no. You didn’t let me answer with that. There has to be more.”
“I work on my art.” Why had he told her that? It wasn’t a secret, but he didn’t share his mosaics with everyone.
Her eyes lit up. “You’re an artist?”
“Eh…” Yes. Why was it so hard to say it? “I’m not a painter or anything like that. It’s something I learned to do a long time ago, and?—”
“What is it?”
“Mosaics.” He forced the words out. “I create mosaics.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Really? That’s amazing. I’ve never met a mosaic artist before.”
“That impresses you?” His eyebrows went up as he pulled his billfold from his coat pocket. “Not the planes or the yachts or the multinational corporations but the mosaic art?”
“How many people can do that?” She stepped closer as she saw his billfold. “Do you have pictures?”
“Yes, I’ll show you.” He was already pulling out a picture of the armory at the citadel. “This is from my castle in the north.”
“Of course you own a castle,” she muttered as she leaned closer. “This is so strange.”
“My mosaics?” He pulled the picture away.
“No, looking at a picture that’s not on a phone.” She smiled and put her hand on his arm, tugging him toward the streetlamp. “Move into the light. I can’t see it.”
Oleg grunted and walked with her. “I don’t have a phone.”
“How do you not have a phone?”
He nodded at the driver. “I have people who have phones. I don’t need to carry one.”
“That is definitely the richest thing you have ever said to me.” She lifted the picture from his hand. “That and the castle thing.” She gasped. “Oh my God. You made this ?”
“Yes.”
“By yourself?”
“It took some time.”
It had taken roughly forty years. The mosaic decorating the main wall of his armory was an expansive forest scene with riders chasing a white stag as a firebird perched in the trees overhead.
“This is stunning.” Her eyes were glued to the photograph. “It looks hundreds of years old.”
It was.
“I enjoy using historical elements and techniques in certain pieces.”
“This must have taken so long.”
He tried to take the photograph back, feeling oddly exposed with her keen blue eyes on his work.
She looked up, the gold light of the streetlamp casting a warm glow on her skin. She was verdantly alive, and her heart was beating quickly as her eyes met his.
“It’s incredible,” she whispered. “Thank you for showing me.”
He frowned. “Please don’t mention it to others. It’s not something I share outside of?—”
“Of course not. I’m honored that you showed me. Thank you.” She put her hand on his as he took the photograph back, her skin warm and violently alive against his cold hands.
Tatyana stared at his hand, then up into his eyes, and Oleg could see when the inhuman energy hit her.
Her eyes went wide and her pupils dilated. “What are you?”
Oleg sent a wave of amnis straight to her cerebral cortex, catching her as her knees went out and lifting her into his arms.
“Infuriating human,” he muttered. “Why does this keep happening?”